The closer she gets, the more Sam -- more than anyone else, probably -- might be able to pick up on something off about this particular embarrassed kiddo. He's very quiet for a boy his age (between eleven and twenty-three, most boys lose the ability to sit still and shut their mouths, after all), and he's sitting very straight and tall, even in the uncomfortable airport seats. But Sam isn't an ordinary woman, so she can probably see that Will isn't an ordinary boy. There's an air of other clinging to him, like he's slogged through a bog made of otherworldly goo and come back with it coating his skin. This is a child who's seen things, touched things, breathed in and drank of and slept in places most folks don't even believe in.
Will doesn't have any such perception, only that Sam doesn't make him want to bolt and hide, and that's a rare thing these days. So instead of stammering and shrugging, he manages a hesitant, tiny smile at the question and points over at the vending machine. It's an ancient thing, tucked over by the bathrooms, sort of behind a soda machine, like the airport is embarrassed about it.
"You, um...you've gotta push the cup button twice, otherwise it'll just...pour the coffee on the floor," Will adds hesitantly, folding his hands back in his lap. "Kinda...not very good."
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Date: 2017-12-04 04:49 am (UTC)Will doesn't have any such perception, only that Sam doesn't make him want to bolt and hide, and that's a rare thing these days. So instead of stammering and shrugging, he manages a hesitant, tiny smile at the question and points over at the vending machine. It's an ancient thing, tucked over by the bathrooms, sort of behind a soda machine, like the airport is embarrassed about it.
"You, um...you've gotta push the cup button twice, otherwise it'll just...pour the coffee on the floor," Will adds hesitantly, folding his hands back in his lap. "Kinda...not very good."